


Punching In

by SaiTheWriter



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, M/M, Piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29925759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaiTheWriter/pseuds/SaiTheWriter
Summary: Rude pierces Reno. Reno loves it when Rude puts things in him.
Relationships: Reno/Rude (Compilation of FFVII)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	Punching In

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Kacy for the idea.

The bell above the door tinkled softly as it swung wide, inviting the cheery sunshine of outdoors into the darker interior of the tattoo shop. Flicking her gaze up, Elena immediately brought it back down, deftly curling the filigree on the lacquer of her nail. “Why you schedule an appointment on your day off is beyond me.” She murmured, raising her hand to check her recent work under the light.

“I’m tired after a full day, I wanna enjoy it, yo.” The redhead returned, his signature grin sliding over his face. Second chair at Tseng’s shop, Reno wandered over to peer at her work, humming in approval. He wasn't just looking at the polish, Lanie was doing some sample flair for the month coming, and by the looks of it her style was slowly taking shape.

“I’m not cleaning up his chair after you if you’re ‘too energetic’ on your day off.” She warned, stabbing the implement in her hand towards him. Apprentice that she was, there were only so many things she would do as grunt worker and that was certainly not one of them.

His hands raised up in mock surrender, content to settle into their playful banter so common in the shop. No one else seemed to be in the waiting area, which suited Reno just fine. Comforting as it was to see the hustle of a waiting queue, there were reasons he picked a quiet Tuesday afternoon.

“You’re early.” 

The rumble never ceased to send a shiver down his spine, even after all these years together. Tilting his head up, Reno caught sight of his lover, framed in the backlight of the hall to everyone’s spaces, purple shirt half covered by the open faced leather vest intricately laced with patches and pins of metal make that he knew for a fact were picked with care.

“Can ya blame me? I’m ridin’ high on serotonin, yo.” Reno murmured, ignoring the small scoff from the front table. 

Hard work paid off with the small smile directed at him, the piercer of their little shop turning and waving him after with only a hand. It suited him fine, there weren’t many things that could ever trump a request from Rude, his feet already had him moving with barely a registered thought to follow. Added bonus, Rude's ass always looked amazing in his work slacks.

The shop smelled of clove and the faintest whiff of vanilla, something he found comforting, something that contrasted well with the ocean grey walls and darker accents. Tseng took care to make it a welcoming space, a haven for those that were looked down on for body modifications of all sorts. It actually looked surprisingly professional, in many ways. Each ‘chair’ had a door, though the rooms were veiled by curtains at the entryway more often than not. The doors really being there only for comfort of certain customers and building requirements. That and well, when Reno was working no one liked hearing his trash taste in music. At one point Tseng dryly joked to a customer he needed to sign a waiver, given the length of his tattoo design he expected his patience to run out far before the ink finished and kill his artist.

Pushing aside one of the heavy scarlet curtains, Rude led the way to his own space, his chair already setup for someone of Reno’s height to settle in comfortably before being tilted back and down. He’d need to be flat, to make sure his marks were straight. To the side on a rolling tray, packets, metal, and markers all lay neat in a row ready for use.

“Come on, babe.” Reno protested at the sight of the body marker, his movements slowing. “You’ve licked a number of things off me around there, how the hell will you mess up?”

“My mark will be on you, in you.” The level of emotion in such small words stuttered his heart, taking with it the breath in his lungs when he looked the darker man in the eye beyond those glasses. “I’m going to do this right. No chances.” A gesture at him told him to divest his clothes, lingering at the red straps of thin fabric peeking out of the low rider jeans. “Those can stay.”

Was that a hint of a growl? “See? I came prepared, wore your favorites and everything.” But Rude had already turned, whether it was to wash his hands or compose himself, Reno took it as a win and began to slide out of his comfy off work attire.

Stepping back after some rustling, Reno straightened, clad in nothing but his underwear that did very little to leave anything to the imagination. His gut curled, simmering low warmth while Rude looked him over, silent as ever as he eyed out his marks. Hip dermals weren’t forever, they tended to tug on clothes, and despite how nice they looked, your body could shift a lot in ten years or so, something of the normal time people decided to have them surgically removed.That suited Reno just fine, and given the fierce little kiss he’d received upon posing the idea to Rude, the other man agreed.A gloved hand startled him out of his thoughts, realizing the man had snuck up on him while he internalized, one hand poised to mark out the areas. 

Reno chose the moment to study Rude’s own piercings while he moved about dotting along his skin. The eyebrow had to be his favorite, a bright blackmetal line with the tiniest of red gems inside each ball. His own opposite eyebrow held something similar, though the gem in it was purple in color. The only other ones that really held his favor were unfortunately covered, though in the club when the tee came off, those clavicle dermals stole the show.

“Up in the chair.” Rude murmured at last when he straightened and stepped away, capping the pen and setting it aside to wheel over his tray. Throwing him a jaunty wink, Reno clambered up and settled in, far too used to the levering to startle when it began to settle out flat.

“Breathe for me.” Rude rumbled near his heart, tilting to press a kiss to a pierced nipple. Tender, soft, sweet like the man himself and layered with intent and emotion.

“You better not be kissin on other payin’ customers.” Reno warned when he managed to get his breath back, the pink high in his cheeks.” At least, not without tellin’ me all about ‘em. “ The tease was an old one, helping to ground him as his lover settled on the stool and pitched it high enough to lean. 

It wasn’t that he was afraid of the pain, he could take a little pain. It wasn’t that he was afraid of needles, he was a tattoo artist for fuck’s sake. His body did not like sitting still. He was a man in motion, something that really only slowed when he was in Rude’s station or leaned over skin himself. Putting art onto flesh, feeling the move and heat as someone breathed under his needle, it was intoxicating. Rude was the only one he’d ever trusted to put a piercing in him, just like how Tseng was the only one he’d ever let touch his own flesh. Lanie was good in her own right, the thought of her first tattoo being on his own skin was an honour. He just had to convince his body of that fact.

“Relax babe.”Another soft murmur, this time followed by a kiss to his hip while he lowered the chair back fully at last and flattened him out. Turning his head to the side, bright eyes regarded his lover, staring at him above those ever present shades. Gods, he could get lost in those eyes. “If you hadn’t left this morning without a little extra morning fun, maybe I’d relax easier.”

“I’m not blowing you on my chair.” Rude cut off his thoughts, smiling when he was rewarded with a pulled face. “Maybe after.” Immediately the face melted away, his triumphant luck softening when the sound of wrappers hit his ears. Right then.

Soft murmurs of jazz slid from the black radio on his countertop, a large contrast to the junk he himself tended to listen to. This wouldn’t even be truly heard over the sound of his tattoo gun, let alone vibe with his usual disarray of conversation.

For awhile, Reno lost himself in the room, his gaze flitting along the interior he knew by heart while Rude finished up his prep and got the anchors ready to punch in. Reno’s own walls were covered in photographs of people with his work, friends at the bar, random shit even from magazine clippings. Those were his favorites. What’s so cool about going places when you can just gut a mag and slap it on your wall? He had views from all over in the place. But Rude? He had several nice prints on the wall, what you might see in an office interior. Only two photos actually made it on the wall, one of the three of them, when they’d drunkenly made a pact to open the place, half leaning on the table for support…and one of him. It was from their first trip to Costa as a pair, his tacky ass in one of those tropical print shirts slathered in sunscreen enough to keep a vampire happy, staring out at the ocean. Who needs a view indeed. If he looked any more besotted with the moment in that expression, he’d have to marry the ocean. He’d had no idea that Rude had snapped the candid, not until he came in one day for a new belly button ring and noted it place with care on the wall where the sun would filter nicely onto it through the window and gauzy curtains.

“On three.” Rude prompted, waking him from the soft thought and allowing him time to prep. Rude never counted, Reno counted it out himself in his head, knowing they’d sync up. The punch was done before he had a chance to inhale, head falling back while Rude tended to the site and got it ready for the dermal to screw into the anchor. Once he was satisfied, Rude moved to the next, another just an inch and change lower on the same side. Four to be done in total, more than he liked to do even on regulars, though this was Reno. Trust went a long ways between them. Though,he had needed to make sure when he lay there that his hands didn’t stray. He had a terrible habit of hooking belt loops when Rude was in range and he was on his back, something that went well at home but never at the studio. At one point Rude had joked making him sit on his hands while he was down.

“How do you feel?”Rude said at last, tugging Reno back to awareness. There was an ache, but nothing near as bad as some of the others he’d had done. Shut up, he was addicted to the chair, same way people were addicted to his chair. That and he had the added bonus of Rude’s fingers gently touching over them in bed, when the dark finally pulled those glasses away and showed him gleaming gold in the dim light of the outside streetlamp. The worshipful look in his gaze while fingers danced along piercings and skin was more than enough to keep him coming back for more. “It's good.” He finally murmured, shifting slowly upright to see if there were any pains. “Definitely perfect spots, I wanted to wear those pants with the cloth straps instead of front pockets- come on, yo. I was kidding.” Reno quickly defended with his hands up, watching that stony look get even harder. Resting Rude Face was his favorite thing, especially since there were only a handful in the world that could truly gauge his mode off look alone, and of them all he himself was the number one interpreter.

“Three days, at least.”He instructed, arms folding over the front of his chest, accentuated with the soft creak of his leather vest. “I don’t want to see them unless it’s for bed.” And oh, the thoughts that brought on, giving him an almost Pavlovian reaction to the mere idea of tonight’s tender touches along healing flesh. Rude was always far more gentle the night of a new addition, spending time kissing along his skin, fingers gently easing over the new playmates with care and devotion. How the fuck had he won out so well?

“Fine fine, don’t think I’ll be doing any dancing for a while anyways, the anchors feel weird.” He complained, sitting up fully and shivering as he stood at the sensation of phantom movement down below.

“Does it hurt?”” Reno hadn’t even seen the man move, one moment he was standing and washing his hands, the next the other artist was kneeled down, warm fingers still damp but gently framing his hips.

“Wh-no. Rude, they’re fine. I meant the feeling of pullin’, no pain. Just makes it a little hard to concentrate some.” His smile went sly, moving one of his own hands to cup a cheek. “Though if you stay down there any longer you may make it even harder.” It was a terrible joke, but those ones were the ones that got Rude to smile most, and given the little peek of teeth, he won out.

“Elena said not to get my chair dirty.” Rude pointed out, making no move to shift away, actually leaning a cheek to the soft flesh of his inner thigh. Seconds after there was the scrape of barely there stubble and a gentle kiss.

“I’m not in your chair right now, am I babe? Come on, let’s see how mad she gets when I come out lookin’ like we slammed in the back of your Dragula.”


End file.
